


Blossom

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Capable of Being Oblivious, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, ooc tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Grantaire and Jehan own a flower shop. They decide to confess Grantaire's love for Enjolras via bouquets.





	Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> This is like... half crack. Honestly, really the only one in-character is Combeferre. Also, my first flower shop AU, but I fell down a flower language research hole while trying to decide on a tattoo, and I couldn't get out.

Grantaire was moping.

Jehan whacked him with a dethorner.

Grantaire yelped and rubbed his elbow. “What was that for?”

Jehan rolled their eyes. “You need to do something.”

“I am perfectly fine doing nothing. Doing nothing always leads to the very best of somethings.”

“How dare you use Winnie the Pooh against me!” Jehan gasped. “But, no, not that. You,” they pointed emphatically with a bud knife, “need to do something about Enjolras.”

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, yeah, let me know when you have an idea that works.”

“Daffodils,” they said, not missing a beat.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

Jehan shrugged. “Yellow is the color of friendship, but daffodils mean _You’re the only one for me_. If he gets offended, you pass them off as friendship flowers.”

“And he’ll fall for it because he thinks I’m a lazy bum who hasn’t done a day of work in his life.”

Jehan winced, but Grantaire’s tone was hopeful, so they let it pass.

“Prouvaire, my friend,” Grantaire said, slinging an arm around their shoulders, “you are a genius.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well,” Jehan said, three days later, from where they were curled on Grantaire’s sofa, “either he took it really, really badly, or he took it somewhat alright.”

Grantaire groaned miserably. He fell forward onto his arms, staring woefully at the bouquet of yellow carnations on his coffee table.

Jehan patted his head. “Well, there’s only one way to be sure.”

“No, no, I’m fairly certain.”

“Grantaire,” Jehan sighed.

“Fine,” Grantaire groaned. “What do you have in mind?”

Jehan grinned wickedly. “Primroses.”

Grantaire looked up balefully, raising a single eyebrow. “Really?” he drawled. He gestured to the carnations.

“It’s worth a shot?” Jehan shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything left to lose.”

Grantaire sighed. “Primroses,” he muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The next bouquet arrived at work.

“Lilies!” Grantaire cheered. “Yellow lilies!”

Jehan whooped. “Quick, how are you going to respond?”

Grantaire stalled. “… Dandelions?”

Jehan raised an eyebrow.

“To keep with the yellow theme, you know,” Grantaire said. “Just in case.”

Jehan sighed. “Alright, I suppose you could do worse.”

Grantaire beamed at the lilies, already planning his responding arrangement. He certainly could do worse than that.

 

* * *

 

 

Only a few days later, all of Grantaire’s happiness had been zapped out of him. “Why?” he asked.

Jehan rubbed his shoulders. “I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding.”

Grantaire snorted. “Really? Are we talking about the same Enjolras here? The one who doesn’t sleep for all the studying he’s doing?”

“The one who forgets to brush his teeth, yes,” Jehan said, digging their fingers into a particularly gnarly knot.

Grantaire glared at the new bouquet. Snapdragons, of course, the last bouquet was a trick. “It’s just my luck.”

“You could always send another bouquet asking why,” Jehan said.

“Yeah, sure,” Grantaire snorted, “I can totally do that. Just send a bouquet of yellow roses down to his apartment or something.”

Jehan paused. “That would actually work.”

“Oh, please? That man’s never cared about anything in his life.”

“Besides studying,” Jehan pointed out. “It’s worth a shot,” they sang.

“Fine,” Grantaire spat. “I’ll make the fucking bouquet.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Jehan came into work, there was a bouquet of peonies and rosebuds on the counter, yellow and red mixed together. They took a deep breath. “Grantaire?” they called. “Who ordered this monstrosity?”

Grantaire peeked out of the back room, and his face fell. “That’s not one of ours.”

Neither of them moved to check the tag, dreading what they would find.

After a long moment, Grantaire steeled himself and walked forward.

“No,” Jehan said, half-heartedly.

Grantaire flipped it up anyway, and immediately stormed out of the shop.

Jehan hurriedly flipped the sign to closed and ran after him. “I’ll talk to him,” they offered. “Just straight up, _Hey, did you mean to send Grantaire the most horrible bouquet in the history of horrible bouquets_?”

Grantaire snorted. “I think we all know what his answer would be.”

Jehan fell silent.

Grantaire shivered in the cold, then nodded decisively. “I’m just going to send him some chrysanthemums. If he doesn’t get that….”

Well, it was accurate, at least. Jehan wrapped Grantaire up close.

 

* * *

 

The next bouquet made Grantaire cry. Grantaire never cried, especially not over stupid poppies. “Does he have to say it?” he sobbed into Jehan’s shoulder.

Yellow poppies, red and white striped carnations….

“I take it back,” Jehan muttered darkly. “This is the most horrible bouquet in the history of bouquets. I’m going to castrate him.”

“Not helping.”

Jehan held their friend close.

Eventually, Grantaire sniffed, wiped his eyes, and moved on, sending out a small bouquet of zinnia.

Jehan noted the arrangement with a pang in their heart. They reached for Grantaire again, but he shrugged away from them and went home early.

 

* * *

 

The next bouquet arrived before Grantaire, and Jehan quickly and efficiently dismantled the begonias and geraniums before throwing them into the trash. They scowled and made up an arrangement of marigolds before stomping over to the Musain, where Enjolras was always studying on Saturday mornings, and throwing them down in front of him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Enjolras looked up, then grinned at the sight of the red and yellow flowers. “Did Grantaire send those?”

“No,” Jehan growled, “because Grantaire’s given up. But since you two have been communicating solely in flowers for weeks, I figured this was as a good a way as any to end things.” They leaned over the table, staring Enjolras down. “If you say another word to him – in any language, spoken, written, signed, flowers – I will make you wish you’d never been born.”

They stormed out of the café, hoping Grantaire wouldn’t have connected the flowers in the bin to their _charming_ leader.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras stared at the marigolds in shock. Jehan could be terrifying when they wanted to, he’d give them that. After a long moment, he turned to his computer to see what they meant. _Cruelty,_ it said, _and grief_.

He poked at the petals accusingly. Red was supposed to mean romantic love, wasn’t it?

He packed up his things and walked home, keeping up a steady commentary in his head.

Combeferre was there when he walked in, enjoying a rare day off. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

Enjolras set the marigolds in a vase and set them in front of the other bouquets he’d received in the past month, then stepped back and sent them all flying to the ground.

Combeferre yelped and stood, grabbing Enjolras’ hands. “Hey, stop.”

Enjolras tried to get away from him, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Stop.” Combeferre tugged him close, wrapping him in his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I messed up,” Enjolras said, voice shaky and wet. “I messed up and I don’t how or how to fix it.”

“It’s okay,” Ferre murmured, rubbing his hands up and down his back. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.”

Enjolras shook his head and pulled away. “I thought I was doing everything right! I kept sending yellow, for friendship, then I put in some red to ask if he was interested romantically, but he kept sending just yellow, and-ʺ He cut himself off, staring at the ground. “That’s why. It’s my fault. I kept pushing him, but he just wants to be friends, that’s all, nothing more. I shouldn’t have kept asking.”

Combeferre reached out a steadying hand. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

Enjolras shook his head, tugged his sweater sleeves over his hands. “I should go and apologize. He’s working today, I’ll go now.”

“Have a cup of tea first,” Combeferre suggested. “Get your thoughts in order.”

Enjolras hesitated but nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Jehan had just gone on lunch when Enjolras walked in. He looked like he’d been crying.

Grantaire supposed Combeferre’s patented _Apologize or else_ speech would have that effect and contemplated hiding in the back room.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said, sounding like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times on his way over to the shop. Knowing him, he probably had. “How do I say-ʺ

Grantaire shook his head. “Save it, okay? You made your feelings abundantly clear. I don’t need a weird apology just because Combeferre or whoever said so.”

Enjolras wilted further. “I decided to apologize on my own. It’s the right thing to do, I’ve clearly crossed a boundary-ʺ

“Enjolras,” Grantaire snapped, bud knife thunking into the counter, “you didn’t cross a boundary. You balled it up, stepped on it, and burned it to ash.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire shook his head. “Whatever, I’ll get over it. But next time, maybe remember that a simple no will suffice when someone declares their undying love for you.”

Enjolras froze. “So, you do love me?” he asked, hopeful.

Grantaire groaned and ticked off his bouquets on his fingers. “ _You’re the only one for me, I can’t live without you, Faithfulness, Try to care, Slighted love, Daily remembrance_ – What the ever-loving fuck did you think I meant?”

Enjolras stalled, going over every single arrangement in his mind. “They were yellow.”

“And?” Grantaire asked.

“Yellow flowers are friendship flowers, everyone knows that.”

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, just like red flowers always mean romance, _everyone knows that_ ,” he snarked. Then he froze, narrowly missing his finger as his knife came back down. “Enjolras?” he asked.

“Yes?” Enjolras replied.

“Were you trying to ask me out with red flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” Grantaire whipped off his apron and scooped Enjolras into his arms, pressing his lips to his, firm and insistent.

Enjolras melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” Grantaire murmured when they broke apart. “Yes, I will go out with you.”

“What did you think I meant?” Enjolras asked, unable to keep the question back any longer.

Grantaire groaned. “Let’s just leave the making of bouquets to me for now on, and you just stick with red roses. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Enjolras agreed. “But what did I say?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jehan snapped from the doorway.

“It’s fine!” Grantaire called. “Please don’t beat up my boyfriend, it was just a misunderstanding.”

Jehan raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Grantaire said, “remember how we started this because we could pass it off as friendship flowers if things went wrong? We didn’t count on Enjolras thinking they were friendship flowers from the beginning, or on him thinking all red flowers are romantic.”

“They are,” Enjolras insisted.

Jehan blinked in shock and leaned back. “So,” they said.

“So,” Grantaire agreed.

“So,” Jehan continued, “that’s how you ended up sending bouquets that meant things like _I’m ashamed of your ugliness, I’ll never date you because you’re not rich and successful_ , and my personal favorite, _Beware of your own stupidity_?”

“What?” Enjolras yelped.

“I wasn’t gonna tell him,” Grantaire muttered.

Jehan laughed, so hard they almost fell over. “Well, if nothing else, this will be a great story to tell your grandchildren,” they giggled.

Enjolras stared in horror.

Finally, Jehan straightened and shooed them out. “Go on, you two, I’ve waited so long for you to get together, and you’re not wasting a minute more.”

Grantaire grinned and pulled his boyfriend close.

**Author's Note:**

> These are the meanings of the bouquets. Each flower can have many different meanings, but these are the ones I chose.
> 
> R: Daffodils - You're the only one for me  
> E: Yellow Carnations - Rejection  
> R: Primroses - I can't live without you  
> E: Yellow Lillies - I'm walking on air  
> R: Dandelions - Faithfulness  
> E: Snapdragons - Deception  
> R: Yellow Roses - Try to care  
> E: Yellow Peonies + Rosebuds - Shame, beauty and you  
> R: Yellow Chrysanthemums - Slighted love  
> E: Yellow Poppies + Striped Carnations - Wealth and success, no  
> R: Yellow Zinnia - Daily remembrance  
> E: Begonias + Geraniums - Beware, stupidity  
> J: Marigolds - Cruelty, grief


End file.
